SuperStar!

As Ethan played the beat, his fingers lightly tapping against the surface in rhythm, an intrusive thought hit him like a truck—What the fuck am I doing?

That single question echoed in his mind, growing louder with each passing second. He was standing in a room where Eminem—the Rap God himself—was debating whether or not to release his own song. A room where 50 Cent, one of the most ruthless critics in hip-hop, was already looking at him like he didn't belong. And here he was, about to freestyle in front of both of them?

He shook his head slightly, but there was no turning back now. The moment had already begun, and backing out would only make things worse. Might as well go through with it.

Besides, something inside him wouldn't let him stop. His mind was a vast archive of music—thousands of songs stored somewhere deep in his memory, always resurfacing at just the right time. He didn't fully understand how it worked, but when he needed a song, the perfect one always seemed to come to him.

And this moment?

This moment needed a song.

Seeing Eminem and 50 Cent in the same room, there was only one track that demanded to be rapped. It was practically begging to come out.

He sighed, exhaling slowly as the beat dropped.

"Alright... let's do this."

His voice cut through the air, sharp and confident, as he started rapping.

"Yeah, I was born a misfit

Was born ten miles from the town of Ipswich

Wanted to make it big, I wished it to existence

I never was a sick kid, always dismissed quick—"

His head bobbed naturally to the rhythm, his delivery coming out smooth, clear, and fast. His voice had a sharpness to it, carrying each syllable with precision. He was enjoying it—really feeling the words as they left his lips.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed it.

Eminem was nodding along.

A small grin pulled at Ethan's lips. If there was any sign that he was doing well, it was that.

But 50?

50 still looked pissed.

Ethan could practically see the irritation simmering beneath his expression, the skepticism radiating from him like heat off pavement. It was clear as day—50 was not impressed. In fact, he looked like he was seconds away from cutting him off completely.

Ethan caught the shift in his posture, the way 50 inhaled like he was about to speak—probably to tell him to shut the hell up.

But Ethan wasn't about to let that happen.

His timing was perfect as he delivered the next line, locking eyes with 50 as he rapped:

"Stick to singing, stop rappin' like it's Christmas."

There was a beat of silence.

Then, out of nowhere, Eminem burst into laughter.

Ethan took a deep breath, steadying himself as the beat filled the room. There was no turning back now. Eminem was already nodding along, 50 Cent's expression was unreadable, and the air was thick with anticipation. This was the moment—the kind of moment he had dreamed of but never thought he'd actually live. His heart pounded, but as soon as he opened his mouth, the words flowed effortlessly.

"And if you're talkin' money, then my conversation shiftin'

My dreams are bigger than just bein' on the rich list

Might be insanity, but people call it 'gifted'

My face is goin' numb from the shit this stuff is mixed with—"

His delivery was crisp, sharp, and filled with confidence. The moment those first lines left his lips, he felt something shift in the room. He saw Eminem's eyebrows raise slightly—a sign of approval. That was all he needed to push forward, pouring more energy into each line.

"Watch how the lyrics in the songs might get twisted

My girl wears red, but looks better without the lipstick

I'm a private guy and you know nothin' 'bout my business

And if I had my 15 minutes, I must have missed 'em—"

A smirk tugged at Eminem's lips, his head moving to the rhythm. 50 Cent, on the other hand, leaned forward, his arms crossed, studying Ethan intently. He still wasn't sold, but he was listening. That was something.

Ethan's voice gained more power as he continued. He could feel himself getting lost in the music, the words pouring out with a conviction he hadn't even realized he had.

"Two years ago is when I came in the game

And eight months later, you all already remember the name

And if you thought I was good, well, then I'm better today

But it's ironic how you people thought I'd never be great—"

Eminem grinned. 50 Cent's expression remained unreadable, but he had uncrossed his arms. That was something.

Ethan's heart pounded, adrenaline surging as he powered through the next lines, his confidence growing with every second.

"I like my shows open-air, Texas to Delaware

Put your phones in the air if you wanna be rocked

You know I want way more than I already got—"

Then came the moment. The moment he didn't even realize he had been leading up to. His voice rose, cutting through the room with undeniable intensity.

"Give me a song with Eminem and 50 Cent In Da Club!"

The second the words left his mouth, the room exploded.

"WHAT?!"

Eminem screamed—literally screamed—as he jumped out of his chair, hands on his head, eyes wide like he had just witnessed a crime. His face contorted in a mix of disbelief and hilarity, as if he couldn't process what he had just heard.

"OH SHIT!" Eminem shouted, pacing the room. "Oh, you did not just—bro, you did not just say that!" He turned to 50 Cent, who was still sitting there, his expression now completely unreadable. Eminem, still pacing, let out another laugh, shaking his head. "Yo, tell me I did not just hear what I think I heard."

50 Cent stared at Ethan, completely still for a moment. Then, ever so slightly, a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. It was barely there, but Ethan caught it.

"Man…" 50 Cent exhaled, shaking his head. "You got some balls, kid."

Ethan didn't know whether that was a compliment or a warning.

Eminem, still recovering from his outburst, finally stopped pacing and turned to Ethan with a grin. "Bro," he said, pointing at him, "that was either the dumbest shit I've ever heard or the hardest flex of all time. I still don't know which one."

The tension in the room shifted. The energy was electric, buzzing with an unspoken challenge.

50 Cent leaned back in his chair, eyeing Ethan like he was deciding whether to end him or respect him. Finally, he let out a chuckle, shaking his head.

"Damn," 50 muttered, finally nodding. "A song with me and Em, huh?"

Ethan swallowed, nodding, his heart pounding. He had thrown the biggest shot of his life—now he just had to see where it landed.